Her Scarlet Letter
by madeleine68
Summary: Post-Undercover and Olivia feels tainted. Read and review!


They were all staring at her. She could feel their eyes boring into her, penetrating her body.

She didn't greet them, just sat down shakily at her desk and started sifting through the mountain of paperwork that covered it and sorting it into separate piles.

Elliot came up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. Olivia jumped. "You okay, Liv?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

She managed a small half-smile. "Yeah, El. I'm fine."

* * *

But still they gawked. She felt like a specimen on display, an animal in a zoo. She felt like she had when she was six years old and her mother showed up to volunteer in her class, drunk out of her mind. They all stared at her then. She felt like she had when she was fourteen and she refused to change for gym class because she felt so dirty, not wanting to expose her bruised and broken skin. That had earned her a week's suspension for "defying authority". When she'd returned, they'd all stared at her.

She felt like she had in that horrible prison when she'd started that riot. The CO had slammed her into a hard surface and harshly restrained her. Then the captain grabbed her and dragged her to the basement. Everyone had been staring at her, knowing what was going to happen because they'd been through it themselves, and they were just glad he was picking on someone else rather than them.

* * *

Elliot looked right into her eyes. "No, you're not fine, Olivia."

Olivia sighed. "Leave it alone, El."

* * *

She had a scarlet letter on her chest, _A_ for _Abused_, _A_ for _Assaulted_, _A_ for _Attacked_. Everyone could tell. She walked down the street and she could feel everyone's eyes on her, the cop who'd been raped. _Almost_ raped. She felt so claustrophobic and paranoid, even though she knew it made no sense. They could look right through her, see her soul, through all that bravado; that she _wasn't _all right, no matter what she said.

Olivia did her work, went home, made dinner, didn't eat it, went to bed, didn't sleep, woke up in the morning, showered for hours, trying to wash away her pain. It didn't work. She was a robot, no feelings, no emotion, nothing. She was just _there_.

Elliot saw it, too. This man had done something to his Olivia that traumatized her so much that she could barely function. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how. She arrived every day disheveled, and every time, the captain told her to go home and get some sleep. And every time, Olivia refused.

"Liv, you know I'm here for you," he told her.

"I know," she said. "I'm fine, El."

But she wasn't and he knew it.

* * *

_A_ for _Abused_, _A_ for _Assaulted_, _A_ for _Attacked_. Olivia knew Elliot could see it, plain as day. They'd been partners for so long that they knew each other's feelings before the other said a word; they could almost read each other's thoughts. She was so ashamed. She hated for him to see her like this, so helpless, so weak.

Elliot knew it. He knew that was why she wouldn't talk to him, because she hated appearing vulnerable. She wanted him to see her as someone strong, resilient, courageous, and she was.

But she was only human. Olivia judged herself so harshly, feeling that she needed to be brave and strong and tough all the time, constantly measuring and underestimating her own self-worth. She blamed herself for everything – for her mother's alcoholism and the abuse she suffered as a child, for every single perp that got away, and now for this trauma she'd experienced. She blamed herself even though it wasn't her fault. That was the problem. She hadn't been in control and Olivia felt like she always had the control, had the power to change even the most impossible situations. But when someone holds a gun to your head and says, "Jump," you jump. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you human.

How could he tell her how much he loved her? How could he show her how amazing she really was? People had told her ever since she was a little girl that she was worthless and she believed it, even now. That was why she did her job so well – to redeem herself. How could he explain to her that in his eyes, she was the sun, the moon, and the stars? She was a goddess. She was so wonderful, yet she didn't know it. And he could never find the right words to tell her.

He loved her, she knew that, but she didn't know why. She'd been used by men all her life so she couldn't help but be skeptical. He never asked for anything in return. He was too good for her.

He wanted to protect her, to wash away the pain and hardship she'd known all her life. He wanted to be her white knight, her prince charming, her noble steed. He wanted to show her that, regardless of what they saw every day, there was still some good in this world. He was _her_ good in this world.

* * *

She had finally managed to fall asleep, her head in her hands, laying on her desk. She was murmuring something, though. _Please don't, please don't, please, please, please . . ._

"Liv." Elliot shook her gently awake.

She looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. She shied away from him and he could tell she still didn't know who he was because she continued to whisper, the panic in her voice escalating, "Please, please don't. Please, please."

"Liv." He knelt down beside her. "Liv, it's okay, honey. It's just me, Elliot. It's okay."

She snapped out of it. "Oh, God. El, I'm sorry."

"No, no," he assured her. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm here for you. It's okay."

"Elliot. I'm fine."

"I'm worried about you, Liv. We all are. What happened in that basement? What did that bastard do to you?"

"Nothing," she snapped. "Nothing happened." She wasn't raped. Nothing had happened.

"Olivia, I want to help you. This isn't your fault. You're such a good person, Liv, and it hurts me to see you like this."

She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do, Liv. You're always so self-deprecating but you're such an amazing person. You're so brave, Liv. I know I wouldn't have been able to face that son of a bitch after he did what he did. Then there was Richard White and Gitano and . . . you never back down, Liv. You always put the victims first, above yourself even. It's what I love – and hate – about you. You're so empathetic and supportive and you can always connect with a victim and make them feel better and help them get through the trauma. You're so good with kids, you have such a strong sense of justice –"

Compliments always made Olivia uncomfortable. She blushed. "Okay, stop."

"But Liv, you don't get it. You always think the worst of yourself, always quick to blame yourself . . . you don't get it. You know how many people's lives you've changed? You know how many people's lives you've _saved_?"

"Just doing my job, El. I could say the same for you."

"No, for you, it's more than that, Liv. I _see _it. You care so much. It's amazing. Liv, you went undercover to a _prison_. There was a rapist on the loose – you knew the risks – but still, you put those women first."

She shook her head. "I was an idiot. If I hadn't been so stupid, it wouldn't have happened."

"Liv, there was nothing you could have done. You couldn't have done anything to stop it. We tell this to victims every day, and it's true. It's not your fault."

But it was. It was her fault for being snarky, for being sanctimonious, for being pretty, for being _there_. She should have known better than to let him take her somewhere all alone. Then she could have stopped it.

Yet she knew that she was powerless and couldn't have done a thing. That was the problem. She was helpless as a child. He had her, he had a weapon. She had no weapon and he was stronger. He managed to force her into such a state of powerlessness, leaving her screaming and begging, pleading and apologizing. _All right. You win._ She had never said that to anyone before except her mother. When she became a detective, it was to take the control back, to help the helpless victims. Having a gun, having a partner, having _authority_, made her feel secure. Without the gun, without the partner, without authority, she was the helpless child she had been at the age of eight, abused in every way.

As a child, she'd had the same scarlet letter. _A_ for _Abused_. Everyone knew about her mother back then. They shied away from her in the hallways as if having a drunken, abusive mother was contagious, like the flue; a virus they could catch if they got too close. In high school, it had been the worst. It was the best time of her classmates' lives, but she was always alone. She spent lunchtimes in the library with her head buried in a book, pretending she didn't care.

But she did. And she still cared now.

* * *

She was sitting on the couch when her doorbell rang. She wasn't _doing_ anything, just staring into outer space and she jumped when the bell rang. Her heart immediately started to pound and her breath quickened.

She shook off her paranoia. Harris was sitting in a nice, comfortable jail cell at the expense of her taxes at this very moment. He couldn't find her . . . could he?

She turned the doorknob and breathed a sigh of relief. It was just Elliot. She stepped aside to let him in. "Want a drink?"

He laughed. "Always the perfect hostess. No, thanks."

She sighed. "Elliot, it's so sweet for you to come check up on me, but really I'm fine."

"Okay, Liv," conceded Elliot. "You're fine. Is it against the law for me to come keep my best friend company?"

She smiled in spite of herself and patted the seat next to her on the couch. He sat down. No words passed between them. None were needed. They just sat there, taking comfort in each other's presence.

Until Elliot put his arm around her.

Olivia cringed and recoiled, but then leaned into him. She laid her head on his shoulder and burst into tears. "I'm not fine."

He held her in his arms. "I know." He stroked her hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She told him. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch who had done this to his beautiful, precious, strong Olivia. If the bastard hadn't already been serving jail time, he would have. But he couldn't do that.

All he could do was hold her and try to make it better. It wasn't much, but it was something.

She felt safe in his embrace, for the first time in years. This was the purest love that could ever exist.

She had a scarlet letter again, but this time it was _L. L _for _Loser, L _for _Left behind. _But also _L _for _Loved. _

By Elliot.


End file.
